


Spiraling Downwards

by lover_of_blue_roses



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: (for the most part), Abusive Relationships, Cameo of Phoebe and Terry, Dork Lovers Server Challenge (Queen Band), Drug Addiction, M/M, Not beta'd we die like men, Toxic Relationships, Unhealthy Relationships, basically paul is a bad guy, in which Freddie saves himself, movie verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 11:43:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20096704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lover_of_blue_roses/pseuds/lover_of_blue_roses
Summary: Meeting Jim at the party was a bright light but Freddie is going to have some dark days ahead. Munich is going to be... difficult. Paul and drugs. Mary shows up but Freddie the one that saves himself.A movie-rewrite of that whole Munich-Rain-Mary Scene because characters should have motivations that make sense.





	1. Chapter 1

Jim had been... everything. So lovely and kind, considerate and compassionate. Freddie couldn't help but think... Jim was without the self-hatred that Freddie has. Freddie has always been trapped by the way he was raised, what his family expected and his lifestyle. But that had been seemingly eternal and forever, like the moon, a permanent fixture in his world. Recently, in the last few years, a new kind of self-hatred had started. 

Part of it, sure, was from him indulging his 'sinful' behavior. He no longer lied about who he was nor sought out women to bed. However, most of it stemmed from his loneliness. And perhaps if Freddie had ended up so lonely it was his doing, his fault. The reason no one wanted him was maybe because he was unwanted and unlovable. 

Every day he pushed his friends more and more away. Living a different lifestyle, listening and wanting to create different kinds of music. He wanted to live in Munich where they had recorded their album but of course the boys wanted to go back in England - needed to. After all they had wives and children - families. As dear and good friends as the band had been, were now they not different people? So no matter how good of friends they might have still been, Freddie wanted more in life. He wanted someone to share his life with, there for the good times and the bad, not just for his money and fame. A life partner in every sense of the word.

Then there was Mary. Mary was a complicated and disheartening issue to even consider. What did she still mean to Freddie? Could he keep her as a friend? Could he keep her in any way? Was what had happened between them, their breakup and then the fading of their friendship, was it all his fault?

And so, Freddie lived with this loneliness. Was it caused by his self-hatred or had the loneliness made him feel unlovable? Had loneliness and self-hatred followed him hand-in-hand all his life or had his recent behavior made it worse? For in the end who could he find to love considering the kind of person he was. He didn't think he partied too hard compare to say people like Elton but maybe Brian was right. Maybe he was being hedonistic regardless of any very real consequences. 

But Jim- Jim hadn't known who he was and hadn't cared. Jim wanted to be treated with dignity and respect, because he knew that was his right. He was kind and considerate, so clearly unaware and uncaring who Mr. Fahrenheit was. Jim saw a person. This was more than Freddie was seen as most days, merely a persona whose sole purpose was to please others. And Jim saw this lonely person and had reached out. He was caring, sweet, gentle and astonishingly handsome. It was a wonder he'd ever wanted anything to do with Freddie, let alone so drunk and high. 

Over the long hours they talked Freddie had sobered up, the beer doing little but wetting his mouth compare to how much he had had earlier. What was this man doing talking to Freddie? Especially after having made such a *charming* first introduction. Freddie had done nothing to be worthy of such generous conversation. Either like Mary they'll split or he'll drag Jim down to his level.

It was a little bit like this man could see into his soul and see all the self-doubt. The kiss was tender and sweet, merely meet as a sign of affection, not as a precursor for escalation. Jim looked at Freddie with soft brown eyes and a gentle warm hand on his head. "I like you Freddie. Find me when you like yourself."

And with that the smartly dressed man stood up to leave. Freddie might have truly been living this lifestyle too long for his first thought was 'hate to see you go, love to watch you leave.' His second was that he'd like to see him again soon. What if he never saw him again? "Won't you at least tell me your name."

"Jim Hutton," A lovely name for a lovely man. "Good night, or rather good morning." Jim bowed his head politely and left. 

Freddie couldn't stop thinking about him. Not just because Jim was so handsome, well-dressed and his voice so sexy but because Jim had been the kind of emotional support Freddie always wanted. But what did Freddie have to offer? Sure, he had his money and Jim would want some of that but that wouldn't be enough. How had he meet people before Queen? 

He'd meet Mary and the band because of how unique and outgoing he could be. But Jim had already seen that side of Freddie and hadn't like it. Or maybe... maybe Freddie really had been going it at too hard. His friends, his soul brothers, hadn't seem to like him much these days either. Had Freddie really changed that much or maybe they had enough of him. He had served his purpose, writing and performing what songs were good in their style and maybe now he had to seek green pastures. Maybe Reid had been right when he had proposed a solo album? 

Paul had politely never brought up the idea again but he had hinted and suggested that perhaps a change in scenery would be nice. Freddie had liked living in Munich and the gay scene where was amazingly vibrant. He had scouted around homes, unsure about if he wanted to leave London but he could easily afford another house. The only thing really holding him back where the boys. He wanted to be close to them. For example, those evenings (nights and mornings) where he'd played Scramble with Roger. Those would not be possible again if he wasn’t living in London. Not that they were really happening anymore. Roger was too busy. But those were dark thoughts to contemplate. Freddie felt like the only way to get away was when he was high or drunk or having sex or of course, all three at once. 

He thought about Jim Hutton the same way one might pick at a loose thread. Jim, Jim, Jim. Freddie thought about finding him, about tracking him down, but would Jim accept Freddie? Unlikely. *Find me when you like yourself.* But maybe Freddie didn't want to change who he had become. Someone he personally found unlikable but that others would flock around. Paul could always find them; they were often young, pretty, and down for a good time. Freddie liked those people and how they made him feel, and those people like Freddie. But how much did Freddie like them? At the cost of his bandmates? Mary? …Jim?

Jim... He really hadn't cared about Freddie's money and wouldn't tolerate his diva behavior. Even if Freddie found him now Jim won't want anything to do with *this* Freddie. Freddie wasn't sure if he wanted to change and that was the crux. His lifestyle wasn't really that different from than an addiction and he certainly did enough cocaine and other hard drugs for the addiction to be real. If he moved to Munich, it was likely things were going to get worse, not better. The only way an addict could be stopped was if they wanted to stop, but Freddie didn't want to stop.

He thought about it. He toyed with the idea of Jim. Idealizing him into a perfect man that would be everything to Freddie, a man without any flaws. No man was that perfect and the more Freddie idolized the short memory of him, they had only meet for a few hours, the more Freddie became convinced that meeting him again would be a disappointment. And if Jim really was that perfect, he'd want nothing to do with Freddie. 

Freddie only thought about it idly. Humming as he imagined the Irishman’s face and opened up his cupboards. He wasn't going to use it, he was such curious where his phonebook was, just in case. Maybe. One day. Some day. It was just nice to know he had it. Freddie wasn't even sure he had a phonebook. Where does one get phone books? Do you buy them in a store? Surely not because his father then would have been too cheap get a new one every year. Pick them up from the mayor's office like wedding licenses? Do you pick up wedding licenses still or do they mail them now- Not that it matters of course, Freddie's never been married and would probably never be. 

Freddie amuses himself thinking of phone books just appearing. The price is one sock from a pair. The socks vanish, the phonebook appears, who knows how, who knows from where. Where do phonebooks come from? Where do the socks he puts into his washing machine go? Literally no one knows. Freddie considers only for a moment that Paul might know where the phonebook was but then Paul would ask him why he needs it and Freddie wouldn't want to have to explain. It sounds so pathetic. Some guy he met at the party, not even an invitee but staff. Who rightfully threatened Freddie after his terrible behavior, wasn't intimidated by his fame or wealth and seemingly had no idea who he was. And yet, and yet had been so nice and kind.... Although Paul would probably happily find him as many men matching Jim's physically description as possible. Paul is supportive in his own way. 

Freddie does actually eventually find the phonebook in washroom, in the cabinets above the dryer. Maybe phonebooks do really come from socks. He brings it up to his room to look through it. Miko is on his bed and Freddie opens the book in front of the both of them, "What do you think?" Miko flicks his tail but doesn't leave which is generally about as good as it gets. Freddie flips idly through it, an advertisement for a sushi restaurant catches his eye. Tsunami is a weird kind of tacky name, but it could still be good. 

Before he can decide either or not to look up Jim Hutton's name and address, he can hear Paul's voice calling him from downstairs. "I'll be right down!" Freddie projects loudly back at him. He closes the phonebook and gets up. Leaving the phonebook on the bed just like that out in the open is probably a bad idea though. Paul would be upset if he found out. He might think Freddie was trying to replace him.

Freddie picks it up and thinks for a moment where to hid it. On his wall there is a LeRoy Neiman painting that was a gift. Obviously, Freddie won't pick something so contemporary for himself but he'd really fallen in love with the emotions the bright vivid colors invoke. It didn't fit the decor of the rest of the house, nor did it fit the decor of this room but this was actually the room he had the least amount of guests in so here it stayed. At least until Freddie found something better that size and regifted this one to Roger. 

Behind that painting, the only odd thing out of his house, is his vault. It feels appropriate. The vault-in-wall came with the house. Freddie hides the phonebook with his stash of cash and extremely valuable jewelry. The phonebook doesn't need to be that secure. It's not like Paul is going to rip it apart if he sees it. It's just better kept out of sight. No questions then. Once stashed away and the painted restored to its position Freddie hurries down the stairs to where Paul is waiting. 

It's studio work today for their newest album, The Works. It's going well, for the most part. They wouldn't be Queen if they didn't argue over every little thing. But after the financial failure that was Hot Space, they have all unanimously agreed to return to their rock roots and original sound. The song their working on is one of Deaky's and it sounds amazing! Freddie is so proud of the band's youngest. What a talent songwriter he has proven to be. Apparently, the song is about women's liberation. They really never discuss what their songs are about and this is especially true of John.

The lyrics are already -hum- enough of a message that they probably don't need more. Misfire. Who Needs You. This song is about the fictional person Sammy and he wants to quit his job real bad. This song is about another fictional character, Steve, who shoots people. Back Chat.

And now, I Want to Break Free. They've all been circling around it. Roger had made a little solo album. Brian had done the Star Fleet Project. That offer from CBS records was still on the table for Freddie. His own solo album. Two of them. Maybe he'd make it Munich. But what would that mean for Queen? Surely, like with Roger it would allow for Freddie to remain a member of the band. Would it spell the end or a new beginning? And could Freddie make music on his own? What would his songs be like without a sounding board? Would they be any good without the feedback from the band? It would certainly be a lot faster and easier to produce the music, but at what cost? 

... And could Freddie really do that? Leave behind his family of a dozen year? But maybe it was time. A clean break now that their once strong relationships had faded into one with the strength of wet-paper.

The song was good. It was nice to see how much Deaky had grown but of course he had. He'd still been a teenager when he'd join Queen, hadn't even finished his bachelor's degree yet. He found a wonderful woman like Ronnie. They had jumped the gun a little and ended up having a shotgun wedding. Maybe they hadn't thought to be lifelong soulmates then and they had some difficult time but patient, attentive Deaky had always been able to make it work. John was a father now. A father to four children! And his children were so grown up. Why Robbie must be ten soon!

And John hadn't just matured in his personal life but he also had in his professional one. Writing more and more songs, better and better ones. He didn't particularly have that Queen sound all the time but if he wanted to *spread his wings*. He was all grown up and could leave the nest. He could break free if that's what he wanted. It seemed that's what they all wanted. What was Freddie even still doing here? He was an anchor around their necks, stealing the spotlight. They could write and produce music without him, hell two of them were good enough to be lead singers.

Freddie was just a good entertainer but once he cashed his check, what use was he to them? They had wives. They had children. Friends of their own. They had no real need for Freddie. Maybe this would be there last album... Unless... Freddie knew what he wanted. He'd had a taste of it with The Game. To be number one in America. There was no feeling like that, to be on top of the world. An amazing, unparalleled feeling, better than any high could ever be.

Who knows how well this album will do. They haven't even finished recording it and after that they'll also have to make the music videos. Freddie might be able to work with his favorite ballerina choreographer! He didn't know what he was going to do yet or for what song but it'd was going to be fun.

\--  
THOSE FUCKERS!

Freddie was beyond pissed. Absolutely furious! Smashing glasses, steaming mad. MTV had banned their music video. Probably the number one-way people learned about songs know that the radio was becoming more and more obsolete. And they refused to air their video. Because they were in drag! What bullshit! It's not like they had been remotely condoning the drag lifestyle or anything queer, they had clearly played it off as a joke. One of their best songs on the whole album and no one would hear it! 

And they didn't point fingers at Rog, whose idea it had been, no no! It was all Freddie's fault! Freddie the fag! Freddie the freak! As though he had done anything wrong. As though there was something wrong with the way he was. There wasn't and it was clear now that Queen wasn't for him anymore. His persona had become too big for even him. His wasn't going to be smeared and disparage like this.

He had said some hurtful things that he had regretted and yet.... And yet were they not the truth? The endless touring with the same songs every night. The writing of albums that was like pulling teeth. No one could agree on anything and no one wanted comments and criticisms on their songs, their babies. No one could give it and no one could take it. That other, more hurtful stuff he had said, it hadn't been all true but it hadn't been all lies. 

Once Smile's Earth album had completely bombed, once Tim left, what would Brian and Roger have done? Even if they had made it somehow into the music industry, would they have become as great as Queen? And John Deacon, accident rockstar, why he'd have a repetitive 9-5 job where he could have every evening and weekend with his wife and children where they'd get such cabin fever and drive themselves all mad.  
\--  
During the calm before the storm, Freddie had taken a moment in his bathroom to collect himself. Maybe wash his face with cold water... He knew what he's really doing in here. He smuggled the phonebook in here for a reason. A hope, a lifeline, a bright light that there is something after this, something that makes this whole shitshow worth it. 

He flipped it opened and turned the pages until he was at the 'Hu.' He trailed his finger down the page until he found him. All the of the hims. One after another men named Jim Hutton. It was hopeless. It'd take him forever to track them all down and for what. And to what? To see that the reality didn't live up the ideal?

Paul knocked on the door. Freddie closed the phonebook and with it his hopes of this possible love awaiting him.

\--

Freddie was going to be his own boss, his own music producer, sing for no one but himself. It'd be lonely at first, that was possible, but he'd find new friends in Munich. Friends more like himself, with more similar lifestyles, that shared the lack of wives in their life. And Paul. Paul would be by his side, his very own cheerleader.

\---  
It didn't turn out that idyllic of course. The biggest problem was, quiet obviously, that Freddie didn't speak any German. It was hard to have meaningful relationships when you can't speak to each other. He met a man, Winnie, who was attractive and couldn't say a single sentence of English. Barbara, who spoke excellent English, benefited from the boost in fame that being Freddie's girlfriend (and beard) translated for them. Winnie also perhaps also looked quite a lot like a certain Irishman. 

Munich was... nice. It was what Freddie thought he wanted. Crazy, outrageous parties. An unending stream of drugs. Sex a lot of it and with a lot of people. And absolute artistic freedom. No one to tell him what to do or how to do it. Completely unrestrained. Freddie thought he might be making okay music but he was shitfaced most of the time it was hard to tell. Paul was always there to make sure it was decent and help with the mixing. 

Freddie hadn't been quite able to imagine how much worse things would get if he went to Munich. He suspected more parties, more sex, more drugs but not to this extent. The more he did, the more he need, the harder it was to get another high as good. Freddie was spiraling and nothing was stopping him. He didn't have anyone here, except for Paul who enjoyed the good life as much as him. There was no reason to ever be sober not even a Tuesday at 2pm. No family, no parents or sister to see. No children, honor nieces and nephews, to visit. Not even a disappointed glint in Miami's eye. And if there was no reason to be sober and being high felt so preferable why ever stop. The best way not to get a hangover is not to sober up.

The album was coming along, the first one at least. It was fun at first. Freddie had never worked solo before and now he could whatever he wanted. He was like a kid in a candy shop, but often he found himself thinking, I really want to show this Brian, what would Roger think of the line, what does Deaky think about this. There was fun to be had but no one to share it with.

And the album... it was so much work. He had to write all the songs, melody and lyrics, had to tell all the musicians how to sound and then make himself understood. The difficult wasn't often the literal language barrier as they spoke some English but that these musicians were little more than paid mercenaries that did whatever he wanted. He didn't always know what he wanted and sometimes his ideas were so poor or out there that a little push back would have been good. He had made and produced parts of nearly ten albums it should be no problem. But instead Freddie felt like he was stumbling in the dark, having no idea how good what he was doing was.

Hot Space had sounded like a good idea when they were doing it, and the songs had sounded real hot in the recording studio but then had flopped. The album had failed to sell and the crowd reaction when touring - the less said the better. What if this was the same? There's this saying about the monkey house at the zoo: When you first walk into the monkey house it smells terrible and you barely stand at, but by the time you've completed the loop inside and are about to exit you can't smell it anymore. If it wasn't for the people just coming in as you leave pinching their noses and complaining, you'd think the monkey house has stopped smelling.

Freddie was in the monkey house with Hot Space, unable to hear how smelly what they were doing was. What if again with this album Freddie has been in the monkey house too long and could no longer smell the shit he's shoveling? Paul says it's fine, it's good, it's excellent but Paul also said that about Hot Space. Self-doubt about his musical talents was rather new and unpleasant to Freddie. 

The idea with The Works was a return to Queen sound, whatever that means, and a more traditional rock sound. Alright Freddie knows what rock sounds like. No synthesizers, fewer drummer machines, less bass. But this isn't a Queen album, it's Freddie Mercury solo -whatever that means. And what genre is Freddie Mercury? He's not particularly that interested in doing ballads like Nevermore or Love of My Life like he did before, and he certainly doesn't want to make a whole album like that. And yet he understands how bad Body Language flopped. Is he more glam rock or pop rock? Does he want opera like backings with Roger and Brian to do the backings? 

Writing the lyrics aren't too hard, its generally only like fifty words and a chorus. More difficult is the melody but he can often pound something away on his piano. The new one he has in Munich is inspiring but it also makes him long for the one he has in London. But then, once lyrics and melody decided on, he needs to bring them before his mercenary band. They have no opinions, only what he wants and so Freddie has to make all the decisions. Freddie thought this was what he wanted, never having had such power and control before. No one is second guessing his ideas but that also means no matter how shitty his idea is no one will call it out. And then, as if that wasn't enough, it has to be mixed. How much bass, how loud the drums and on and on. 

It feels endless. He’s often too high and tired to want to bother. Once he comes to a decision and there are another hundred more to make. Song after song. And then the worse of all of this, is that after this album, there's another. He signed a two-album deal. God that was stupid, but it was so much money and Paul thought it was a good idea which made Freddie think it was a good idea.

Freddie had been bored of the album-tour, album-tour and yet this isn't really any better. Instead of traveling the world, each night in a different country, he's stuck in the same place seemingly unable to ever leave. So, to get away from the work of it all he throws parties. Paul is always about to find people to attend Freddie Mercury's parties, strangers to Freddie that don't speak much English. He's going to turn forty next year, maybe he should be outgrowing these parties a little. One from time to time maybe but all the time, at least once a week is almost more exhausting than fun.

He's fallen into a rut and yet he doesn't know how to get out. If he stops the partying and the drugs, his life won't get less boring but rather more. How could it do anything to fill the empty spaces and times? What would he do with his spare time? Knit? Fish? Some other boring hobby old people did?

It all comes to a head a dark overcast day when Mary shows up at his door - well his window- knocking to be let inside. His door isn't even locked and he was passed out in his living room in the middle of the afternoon. His head is still fuzzy from the cocaine which always hinders short-term memories being made into long term ones. Mary looks wet, it must be raining outside or at least drizzling. It's been a while since he's seen her and he can't quite remember the last time he talked to her.

"Freddie, I haven't talk to you in so long. Paul always picks up your phone and he won't let me talk to you."

Freddie is so happy to see her; Mary looks as lovely as always but for the frown on her brow. "Yeah, Paul's been trying his best to get me to work hard."

Mary looks around and Freddie follows her gaze. Bottles of liquor, mostly empty litter the coffee table and floor. There's only space pushed aside for lines that have left white residue on the glass and mirrored surfaces. Everywhere there are signs of excess and overconsumption. "Being human is a condition that requires a little anesthesia."

She doesn't touch that comment. "So much work you couldn't talk to us? I miss you. Jim tells me he's been trying to get in contact with you for weeks about Live Aid."

Miami? Freddie doesn't want to be contacted in particular about Queen but he does like Miami and isn't completely against talking to him. If Miami is contacting him about business it must be urgent and important, he wouldn't do it about something trivial. Hopefully not another copyright scandal. Or Miami could be contacting him for non-Queen reason, he is a nice conversationalist and Freddie won't be opposed to knowing what's happening in Miami’s life. Maybe a word or two from the grapevine about the boys. But before he can focus on that, "What's Live Aid?"

"It's for the famine in Africa -" Mary goes on but Freddie has understood. 

He was so peeved when he wasn't invited to part of 'Do They Know It's Christmas' by Band Aid. It had been Bob Geldof's pet project. It had hit 1# in the UK for five weeks. It had also become the fastest selling single in the UK, one million in a week and three million by New Years. If this was going to be anything as big but- "Well, perhaps Paul thought it wasn't a good idea. If Paul doesn't want me to do it, he must have a good reason. It's probably best if I stay here, I have a lot more work to do on the album."

Mary looks again at the remnants of the party. He doesn't know if he could take a harsh, although possibly deserved, rebuke. "Freddie you're burning the candle at both ends." She doesn't sound accusatory so much as hurt. As though his actions are hurting her. 

"But the glow is so divine." 

"You have people who are worried about Freddie-"

"Paul is-"

"I'm not talking about Paul. I'm talking about Brian and Roger and Deaky. Me and Miami. We want what's best for you, this is -"

"You don't know what's best for me!" Now he's angry. How dare she come here, waltz in her and after she left him, after she refused him, to tell him-

Mary has backed up and is clutching her middle. She seemingly can't reach him, it's paralleling her dream ominously. She needs to try something else. 'You don't have to do Live Aid if you don't want to, just call Miami and let him know. He wants to hear it from you, not from Paul,' sits at the tip of her tongue. It sounds accusatory. It pities her and Miami on one side against Paul and thus against Freddie. That's not the way to help her friend. She knows she's manipulating him but everything she's going to tell him is true and she genuinely does wants what's best for him. Somehow, she isn't convinced parties with people he doesn't know and a pound of crack is that. 

"I wanted to tell - to tell you in person. I'm... I'm pregnant." It has the attended effect of impacting him emotionally. He's hurt and lashing out at the news. She knows it's not personal that Freddie just longs for a family and someone to love, an end to the loneliness and she's moving on and achieving that for herself without him. When he's calmed down, he'll apologize. He'll demand to be the godfather and spoil the child rotten if she lets him.

She lets him think of this new state of affairs. How much everything has changed and how much more it will change. If he's not there his friends’ lives will continue to change until they are strangers to each other. Mary has known she was pregnant for weeks but she couldn't tell him because he wasn't there. It's true that she wasn't there as much as he wanted before. He wanted her in his life as much as when they were engaged but it seemed obvious to her that they'd spend less time together, just like if they were friends rather than live-in almost-spouse. Maybe she'd been too harsh when she'd tried to give them a clean break and force some needed time apart but she can't go back and fix that. And when Freddie hadn't been touring or recording an album, he'd been hosting more and more extravagant parties. And now of course, he'd move to Munich. 

Before she can finish Paul walks in. Paul and the regular kind of party folks chatting rowdily. No need to knock in his house. Paul has really fully attached himself to Freddie. He's successfully isolated him from all his friends and family, and now has completely ingratiated himself into every aspect of Fred's life. "Mary, what a pleasant surprise." Really, it's a miracle that Roger never knocked Paul's lights out. "I wished I'd have known you were coming. I'd have scrubbed the place." Paul, despite how much of a bad guy Mary knows he is, is always saying the right things and acting polite, at least technically. Mary can hear it in his tone and see it in his eyes that she is not welcome her and if he'd have known she was coming, he would have stopped it.

She sighs. It's useless now. There's nothing she can say to Freddie if Paul is going to be here. "Actually, I'm not staying." She leaves the living room and into the entrance. 

And then Freddie! He! She can't believe it; she should have had more faith - He runs after her. Even married, even pregnant by another man, he really does still care for her. He really did miss her.

She tries to tell him about this dream she'd had last night just before booking this flight. The anxiety, the worry, the despair. She felt like she was losing Freddie and that terrible but perhaps fair, but she also felt that Freddie had lost himself and was now destroying himself, for that she won't stand by. Once she has said her piece, he looks shell shocked but she really doesn't want to stay here in that coked up house with Paul. She can still hear the party guests chatting away in the living room.

She really did book a two-way flight. She had known at the moment why she'd done it that way. It's manipulative but she'd argue it isn't wrong. Staying in Munich just long enough to find Freddie and dangle herself in front of him to get his interested peaked. He was at his core lonely and she could only imagine it had gotten worse in a foreign country where they didn't speak English. If she could lure him back to England, see the boys again, long enough to do Live Aid, see how the crowd loved him, maybe they'd be able to help him out of this seeming tail spin. Or at least get him to acknowledge he had a problem. To get him out of Paul's clutches is probably impossible, Freddie refuses to see it, he's become so dependent on Paul literally but also emotionally. 

And so, she opens the door and sees a waiting cab, 'Geez thanks Paul.' The rain has really started to come down and she hurries to sit down. 

Freddie runs after her and car door is still open a crack enough for him to speak to her. The first words out of his mouth are an apology for how he reacted to the news of her pregnancy even if the word sorry is not said, she's used to Freddie's behavior by now. "Mary! I'm happy for you, Mary. Truly, I am. It's just...I'm frightened." He says the last in a quiet shameful whisper. He's spent so long with this brave stage persona on and yet at his core he's just a man that bleeds, falls down and gets hurt.

He's really listening now. She's going to try again, this was the strategy she'd decided last night after her nightmare and that continued to seem like the best choice on the plane ride over, because mostly important, it is the truth. "Freddie, you don't need to be frightened. Because no matter what, you are loved. By me, by Brian, Deacy, Roger...your family. It's enough." It's good, it's a strong message but it's not enough, she needs to nail this behavior's coffin shut, "And these people...they don't care about you. Paul doesn't care about you. You don't belong here, Freddie. Come home." She carefully punctuates each statement to emphasis her point.

She can see Freddie thinking about it. Paul call for Freddie from the doorway of the home. She done her best, in the end only he can help himself. She closes the door and the taxi takes off, when Paul called the taxi he must have said 'airport' to really make sure she was leaving.

Freddie watches Mary leaves and can hear Paul telling him to step out into the rain. He can feel his pulse pounding his ears. It's all gone so terribly wrong. "Why didn't you tell me about Live Aid?"

"The Africa charity gig? It'll be an embarrassment. I didn't wanna waste your time." Paul sounds nervously, very nervous. What does he fear Mary has said? Paul knows what Freddie thought about Band Aid, he knows better than to make unilateral decisions of such importance. He sounds like he knows he being called out. Like he knows he did something wrong.

Freddie's going to give him another chance to do better than that, "You should have told me."

"Of course, I did." Paul defenses himself. *Lies.* "You forgot. You're always forgetting things." That's not completely wrong Freddie has been forgetful especially when he's high which is more and more often nowadays. But someone has not only been supplying but enabling and encouraging him. Freddie's a grown man and these were his bad life decisions to make but.... he thinks about what Mary said. 'Paul doesn't care about you.' She's right. If Paul cared he would have behaved like Roger, Brian and Deaky did when they saw how he was spiraling, losing control, becoming addicted. 

And he won't have forgot something this important. He knows why he can't remember the last time he spoke to Mary, because it's been way too long. And Miami's been calling but Paul hasn't been relaying his messages. What else is Paul hiding from him? Surely not just Live Aid. And how long has this been going on? Surely not only since Munich. "Come in now and have a drink." 

No. No more. Paul only wants to drag him back and get him so spaced out he doesn't know which day of the week it is, let alone be able to function properly to work. Mary was right about this too. If the reason he couldn't talk to people like Mary was because the work was so important then why was Paul hosting constant parties and inviting over people, like this evening. How long has Freddie been growing malcontent with his life and instead of actively trying to fix it, he's let himself be led by the hand further down the garden path.

"You're out."

Paul sputters at what must seem like a harsh decision out of the blue. "What do you mean?"

"I want you out of my life." Paul has been nothing but toxic and controlling in Freddie's life this whole time, always thinking he knows better. So slimy and always able to land on his feet.

"Cause I'm the only one left, you're blaming me for everything?" Paul doesn't sound hurt or genuinely torn up about this but rather disappointed. This cash cow is leaving you for greener pastures.

"I blame myself." And that's true. It would be easy to point the finger at Paul. He's clearly a manipulative, a controlling liar. But that wouldn't be fair because Freddie had kept Paul on even after Roger, someone that use to his best friend and hopefully will be again, hated him. Freddie had like the adoration and the serving, accommodating nature of Paul. A Yes-man. Who provided him with anything and everything Freddie asked for. Because he had asked for it. The sex, the men, the drugs, the parties. Freddie had wanted it. He had been desperate to get away from how he was feeling, for a way out, and instead of a ladder out, Paul had given him a shovel. 

Rock-bottom. That's where he was. What he had done and let done to himself. He had alienated the friends that had loved him so for over ten years. He had left the band he had lovingly made himself, all the hard work he had -they had accomplished together. And for what? For money? Because things with Queen had become too hard? Too boring? He abandoned them... his family.

"So I'm out? Just like that? After everything we've been through? Just think of the photos I have. I know who you are, Freddie Mercury." Now apparently, it's Paul's turn to dig himself deeper. Paul has never understood Freddie and has always made that claim, thinking they were the same, often just because they were both gay.

'So this is who you are when you are backed into a corner. You would blackmail me? You think that's going to work? That I'm afraid of you? That I'm that much of a coward? Just a house of cards? I guess I must have been behaving real spinelessly if this is what you think of me. I suppose you made me away run from my country and friends. Rotten, rotten to the core. Only good for the flies to eat.'

Freddie can't take it anymore and leaves. Paul is good enough to take his ilk and be gone when Freddie returns. Freddie starts with the basics. A shower, a fresh change of clothes and a call to a maid service. It's been a tiring day but now it's over. It's all finally over. Certainly, Freddie isn't quitting cold turkey and he's sure he'll party again when the occasion calls for it but no longer will this behavior dictate his lifestyle. And now as he falls heavily into his bed, a new chapter of his life awaits him.


	2. In Which there is actually Jim, hopefully

Paul was as good as his word, ratting him out to the press. All that for *32,000 pounds. That's not even that much. Paul really didn't have any faith that their relationship could be salvaged. Not only that but Paul felt he'd treated Mercury so poorly that no one else would ever hire him. This kind of carrying-tales behavior will make it so he can never work in the industry ever again. No one will want him, he's a complete pariah.

[~90,000 pounds / 100,000 dollars in 2019]

[Maybe Paul already knows what Freddie would only discover later, that he was sick. Sick and dying. And rather than have his legacy be of kindness or with friends by his side, Paul burnt all his bridges just for a little more money in the short-term knowing that was the only time-frame that would matter.]

Miami is good enough to book an appointment with the mothership and Freddie flys back to London. Freddie has the Garden Lodge reopened and Miami personally hires him a new personal assistant, someone better than Paul (not that that's a high bar). 

And indeed waiting for him in his home is a round-faced man who introduces himself as Peter Freestone and is good enough to help him with his luggage. "We've met actually. When I use to work for the Royal Ballet."

"Hope I made a good impression despite my ballet skills." Freddie tries his best not to be too defensive. If Miami picked him it must be because he approved and he certainly doesn't seem anything like Paul in the way he chooses to present himself. 

"A very good one. It was really brave of you to go on stage like that even if it didn't completely work out," what an understatment, how kind of him. Freestone looks a little bashful as he continues, "Although I must confess I don't actually know anything really about your music or your band." Such frank honesty is refreshing, not just whatever Freddie might want to hear. 

"Well if we're being completely honest then I must confess... I don't remember meeting you." Freestone waves it away as he follows Freddie, bags in tow, to his room. "And on that note... I've meet a lot of Peters. I mean a lot a lot. Not to mention I work with a lot of them, roadies, crew, those that help produce the album, label execs... So - In that same vein I know a lot of Johns. That's why we call our John Deaky because even at the very beginning we had John Harris from Brian and Roger's old band Smile."

"I understand, yes. Mr. Beach was telling me you called him Miami."

"Just so. And if you're going to be work with Queen, you need a name. Mmm." Freddie hums as unpacks his clothes and lays them out on his bed. "I was thinking Phoebe."

Freestone blinks and then smiles, laughing heartly, "Alright, sounds nice. Mr. Mercury." Phoebe teases back as he helps move the clothes into their appropriate spot.

Oh my. This boy is so nice and sweet, like a giant glazed cinnamon bun. Where Paul was sharp edges and ambition, Phoebe is calm and soothing. While Freddie stores his balled up socks, Phoebe goes to put his toiletry kit into the giant master bathroom. "I do have one question?"

"Mmm," Freddie verbalizes.

"The phonebook in the bathroom. Do you want it to stay in there because the moisture'-"

Phonebook? Phonebook! "Oh! Oh! Bring it here." Freddie had almost forgotten. Jim, Jim Hutton. His mystery man. Even if he didn't live up to the no doubt idealized perfect man that Freddie remembered, Freddie wanted to prove to Jim (and maybe to himself) that he'd changed and became a better man. The kind of man he liked and maybe the kind of man Jim liked.

Phoebe brought it as asked, "I also need a pad and something to write on." Poor Phoebe was willing and eager to follow instruction but he had no idea where anything was in this new place. 

Once procured Freddie started to jot down the addresses in his regular messy scrawl. No, no! This was no good! Terry, his driver, would have to decode this chicken scratch as Freddie couldn't drive, nor navigate London streets, himself. Freddie ripped the top page of the pad off in frustration. "Do you have nice handwriting?" 

Phoebe blinks once in the face of Freddie's manic behavior. "You can rip the pages out of the phonebook. It is your phonebook."

Oh right. Freddie's not living under his Papa's roof anymore. He rips the whole page clean out. All the address he needs are on the two sides of the page. "I might have an errand for you to do later. Well. I don't know how much you'll have to do but... But for now I think I might need a map of London and Terry."

"Certainly. If you need me for anything else do let me know. Would you prefer for me to return to unpacking your suitcase afterwards or would you rather I took my leave?" 

Paul had never offered to 'take his leave,' as though there was no possible moment or reason Freddie would want to be alone or in other's company. "I imagine there's still work to be done for the house." Even though Freddie isn't planning on staying forever, or even the rest of the year in London, a house this size still needs it.

"Indeed."

"Then um, go and take care of that. I have everything here under control."

Phoebe leaves a little meekly. Freddie doesn't think his new employee is intimated, as he really seems to have no grasp on who he is, but rather be naturally... demure. Oh, that's a terrible word. What next? Will he need a fainting couch?

A map of London, a folded up page of the phonebook, Terry and a pencil later all the Jim Huttons are accounted for with their location circled. This way they can strategically travel as to do the most of them in a single passage. Freddie trapes down the stairs, Terry following, to see Phoebe fighting to restock the fridge. 

"Phoebe, can you cook?" Freddie asks. Phoebe responsables reasonably quickly to his new name. He waves his hand in a so-so gesture, which is really leagues better than Freddie's talent. Maybe Freddie should get a cook. Do cooks need to live in place? What about the Logan Mews that are technically connect-ish to this property? A cook would be nice, good food and more personal so that Freddie didn't rely on Phoebe for everything. One of his exs, a Joe Fanelli, comes to mind. He was a professional cook and he and Freddie had parted on decently good terms. 

"I might hire a cook, so look into that would you?" Freddie tell him and wants to ask something else. Demand it. Freddie doesn't want to knock on these strangers doors until he finds his man. Freddie had been more introverted when he was younger. He hadn't ever grown into his teeth but they looked a lot more subtle with his moustache. No Freddie had learned well how to put on a brave, outgoing persona, the really problem now was that people might recognize him. And it makes him feel shy. He wants to ask Phoebe to do it in his place. It's scary and Freddie is... Fred is scared.

He doesn't want to be rejected for the person he is. Who would? But he doesn't ask it of Phoebe, instead only thanking him for his diligent work and following Terry to his car. 

And while Freddie is nervous, there really is nothing to be scared of. Freddie simply tells them he's looking for his Jim Hutton and is doing every name in the phonebook. People are completely understanding. There are a thousand and one ways you could lose contact with someone and no one questions who Jim Hutton is to him. There are those that recognize him and only his signature is needed for them to leave him alone, star-struck to have the Freddie Mercury come knocking at their door. 

The worse is those that are not in and instead someone sharing the domicile answers the door. As Freddie doesn't have much to describe Jim aside from his personal appearance. He doesn't know what those people think when he tell them this. If they think he's an old friend from primary school that really wouldn't know if he was married or has children. Freddie can only assume they are of a similar age. The friendly folks though do often bring to the doorway picture of their Jims.

Half of the names on the list had already been crossed off when Freddie arrives at a modest row house in relatively rural part of London. At this point Freddie has got a whole speech memorized loaded and ready to go at the tip of his tongue. Is this how door to door salesmen feel? And then - And then the Jim Hutton Freddie has been looking for - his Jim Hutton, well almost not quite yet, opens the door. He recognizes Freddie the moment he lies eyes on him too and a warm smile breaks out across his face.

"Do you have any idea how many Jim Huttons are in London?"

"Well, I didn't want to make it too easy for you." He chuckles and its doesn't seem mocking at all. "How have you been, Freddie?"

"I've been a bit lost, to be honest. You were right. I could do with a friend." Freddie sucks in his upper lip. Way to not come on to strong. Like you trying to grabbing his ass the first moment you met didn't clue him in, but Freddie would really like to do it right this time. "Would you like to have tea with me?"

Jim smiles and Freddie knows he's going to say yes.

**Author's Note:**

> This was for the dork server challenge 'Half of the names on the list had already been crossed off.'


End file.
